


A Little Feline Intervention

by Latromi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Cats, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotions, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Massage, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, No Smut, Pets, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Aziraphale (Good Omens), Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22491124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latromi/pseuds/Latromi
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself caring for the neighbor's pet cat, who lives above the flower shop. Crowley is invited over to share some wine and help him keep the cat company.With the help of the feline, feelings come to light, boundaries are shifted, and the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale will change forever.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 122
Collections: Unbalanced Humours





	A Little Feline Intervention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SugarMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarMagic/gifts).



> Over on the Kink Meme Discord Server, many were making soft, fluffy fics for SugarMagic. Mine is a bit late, but I hope it still is able to brighten some days!
> 
> Many many thanks to my beta reader, DreamsofSpike. Without them, this fic may never have been finished, and with their help I was able to not only get this fic done, but done in a state I am proud of!

"I'll only be gone for a few days, my dear. Please. It would be such a peace of mind. We live right across the street above the flower shop." The woman had waved to Aziraphale more than a handful of times from across the street. He was certain about where she lived, considering he'd never really seen her leave work at the end of the day. The part he was unsure about was the entire thing she was asking him.

"Yes, well, you see, I've never really been much of an animal enthusiast. I really wouldn't know the first thing about keeping it healthy, and wouldn't want to cause harm to your pet while you are gone," Aziraphale fumbled and hoped that reason would be enough to satisfy her into trying to ask somebody else, anybody else. 

"You'll be fine! Kera doesn't need much! Fresh water, her food in the morning and at night. Someone to change the litter box. More than anything I'm sure she'd like someone to pet her since I'll be gone and she'll be lonely. Feel free to bring a friend over, have a chat! Kera would love that!" The woman continued to be insistent. "If it wasn't such short notice I'd use my normal sitter but she's in Paris till the end of the month on business. Please, Mr. Fell, you'd be a real miracle worker if you helped me out just this one time!"

Aziraphale quickly ran out of reasons to decline. She swept them under the rug the second he uttered any of them. 

So that was how Aziraphale found himself caring for a cat that weekend.

  
  
  


Aziraphale had called Crowley to join him, since they had plans for wine that night anyways. After discussion over what the woman from across the street expected, it seemed she just wanted him to spend some time there, after taking care of the beast and her plants downstairs. So Aziraphale planned on bringing some wine over and keeping the animal company like she had requested. 

Crowley would keep them both company, care for the plants since he knew more about them than Aziraphale did, and help keep Aziraphale from losing himself to anxiety altogether. Aziraphale was never the one between the two of them to care much for the creatures of Earth. Care  _ about _ them? Yes. But directly caring  _ for _ them? That had always been more Crowley's forte than his own, as much as it pained him to admit it initially.

Kera was most eager to meet Aziraphale. When he closed the door to the apartment portion of the flower shop, Kera brushed against Aziraphale's trousers and made a series of soft chittering sounds. She was mostly white and black, with a few splotches of orange. The woman had mentioned she was 'calico' but the word didn't mean much to Aziraphale in relation to animals, he'd only heard it used when talking about fabrics in the past.

"Oh, hello there, Kera." Aziraphale said aloud with a mild anxiety in his tone before frowning and questioning if it was really necessary. Surely the animal couldn't understand him. Then what was the point to talking to it? But then, Crowley talked to his plants and they certainly appeared to understand. Perhaps animals were similar? Kera chittered back to him as if she understood every word and indeed had a great number of things to discuss.

The woman had shown Aziraphale around her apartment the day before she left. Aziraphale got the cat food out and nearly forgot he lacked a gag reflex at the smell of the canned food. It did  _ not _ smell like any chicken or beef he had ever consumed, and he'd consumed plenty from all corners of the globe. Kera did not seem to mind. She weaved around his legs and circled the bowl, all the while making more urgent sounds at him. 

He upended the can over the cat food bowl, using a minor miracle to be sure the can was spotless, and more importantly, odorless, before he placed it into the garbage can. He was  _ not _ okay with walking past a garbage can that had  _ that _ sitting in it for any length of time. Kera dove into the food and began what Aziraphale would have described as inhaling the food, rather than eating it.

Freshening up the water was easy. Just a minor miracle to clean the bowl and purify the water. He didn't use enough of his powers to make it holy water, just enough to remove debris and make it safely drinkable. 

Aziraphale then stood in front of the litter box. He frowned. Despite being man-shaped, the reality of his corporation was rather vague. Which is to say, washrooms were for humans, not the ethereal. He was fairly sure it was the same for the occult, considering their other similarities. The woman had shown him  _ where _ the litter box was but not exactly told him what to do with it. He knew it was a small, apparently also smelly, cat washroom. 

"I thought you were told to watch the cat, not its waste, Aziraphale." Crowley's voice came from behind him. 

Kera was too absorbed in the act of food consumption to care at all that a second man-shaped entity was now in her territory. She'd been raised by the flower shop owner since she was a kitten and thus had lived a pampered life free of fear of anything (Except the vacuum. The vacuum was terrible and awful and the world was definitely going to end every time it emerged from its den in the hall closet. Lucky for the world, Kera was here to fight it valiantly until it abandoned it's assault and retreated back to its den. Kera had never lost a battle, though she feared she might whenever the vacuum was left out unattended). So there was no reason for her to care how many people (or in this instance, people-shaped entities) were in the house.

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and spoke. "Yes well, Kera is eating and this is one of the things I'm supposed to do, I'm just not clear on  _ what _ exactly I'm meant to be doing. She seemed to assume I would know."

"You do come off like a cat person at a glance. Can hardly blame her." Aziraphale heard Crowley sigh from behind him, but he made no move to leave the vicinity of the litter box. Instead, the angel had returned to staring at the box reprovingly; deep down Aziraphale hoped that it might sort itself out, if he only spent long enough focusing on its miserable existence.

Aziraphale's wishes came true as he heard Crowley snap his fingers. The litterbox looked good as new. Like it had never been used. The pan was dust free and the odor of the waste was gone from the air, replaced with the slight smell of the litter instead. "Can we go drink wine now, Angel?"

Aziraphale beamed at the task having been done for him. "Yes, of course! Thank you."

Crowley rolled his eyes, but Aziraphale noticed a glimmer of a warm smile flash across Crowley's lips before he turned to go fetch the wine. They retired to the living room area and sat on opposite ends of the sofa, each sipping at his wine and enjoying relaxed company.

It wasn't long before Kera finished her food, and lazily walked over to the sofa while seeming to size up its two occupants. Then she hopped up in Aziraphale's lap. He looked at her and she nuzzled her head against the hand holding his wine glass. He moved his hand away and she insisted on contact by nudging his other hand on the armrest.

"Pet the poor thing, Aziraphale," Crowley encouraged from the other side of the sofa. 

"I'm not sure that's necessary, is it?" Aziraphale's voice had a slight waver to it. "I'm meant to be watching. Keeping company. Not fondling. It's  _ rude _ to touch other people's things."

"It's much more cruel to deny affection to a creature that couldn't possibly understand human rules." Crowley shifted over towards Aziraphale on the sofa and reached out, petting a long, gentle stroke down Kera's back. She leaned into the touch and began to purr. "See? She likes it."

Aziraphale watched the interaction with nervous curiosity. Crowley's touch was so gentle, and the cat did seem to enjoy it. He reached out one of his own well-manicured hands and pet Kera just like Crowley had done. Crowley pulled his hand away and let Aziraphale take over.

As Aziraphale stroked down Kera's back, his hand collected fur, pushing it down towards Kera's tail. It was dark and messy against his light clothing, and seemed to cling to everything it touched, so he snapped his fingers to miracle the fur away. Kera jumped slightly at the sound before settling back down. He repeated this process many times, finding himself completely overwhelmed in black fur. 

"When is it going to stop all this?" Aziraphale waved his hand in the air toward the newly shed clump of fur before snapping his fingers softly and miracling it away.

Crowley narrowed his eyes slightly, disbelieving. "Shedding?"

"Yes. Does it end? I'm getting rather tired from using my powers to miracle this all away, frankly." He continued to pet the cat, who continued to purr and shed just as much as when Aziraphale had first sat down. 

"They don't just stop shedding, Angel." 

* * *

The response caused Aziraphale to look over at Crowley with his expression much more devastated than it should have been, considering the circumstances. "But whenever you've mentioned shedding in the past it's always sounded like a phase. Like it has an end." Concern drew over his features that cats were just like this  _ all the time. _

"I'm a snake. Not a cat." Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cats don't stop shedding. Fur is different from scales. It's more like human hair, always losing some and growing more. You really don't know anything about animals, Aziraphale?"

"I know some things. I've just never cared for any. That's a human thing. Animals are messy, dirty." Aziraphale paused to gesture down at the now very noisily purring Kera. "Loud. Not very angelic if you ask me."

Crowley huffed a short laugh, "Angel, animals are hardly that bad, they are also loving and patient." Crowley paused, sipping his wine while considering how to elaborate in a fashion that might open Aziraphale's mind. "All they ask for is love and care and affection. Then you'll be the world to them."

"I don't know how I feel about giving affection to a beast." Aziraphale kept petting Kera who had now settled down in his lap, contentedly purring away. Her eyes were closed and her tail was tucked next to her, no longer twitching it had been when Aziraphale had started to pet her.

Crowley tilted his head, completely confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, being physically affectionate to other creatures has always been more of a human thing. After humans, most angels never wanted to be associated with anything remotely human, or even earthly. To do human things was to sully yourself. Even if the action isn't strictly viewed as a sin, it's definitely looked down upon."

Crowley took a bigger sip of his wine than was typical for him; he tried not to let the disgust show on his face for fear it might be misinterpreted. "So Angels can feel love but never act on it? That seems unnecessarily cruel, for your lot."

Aziraphale looked down at Kera, still petting her gently, while frowning, "No, not exactly. We are free to be affectionate with each other. It's just looked down on when it's earthly creatures. As Angels, we're meant to be influencing, not getting directly involved."

"But you barely visit Heaven." Crowley spoke softly, measuring his words, his lips parted to continue - but Aziraphale spared him by picking up where he'd trailed off.

"So my peers and coworkers, my celestial family are all up in Heaven creating bonds and sharing in the comforts and love of each other." Aziraphale sounded so hollow and broken to admit it, almost bitter. His fingers continued to rake comforting lines through Kera's fur, occasionally sending the fur away with a soft brush of fingers together in a motion of a snap so slow and gentle it had ceased to make noise some time ago. "While I'm down here on Earth, and generally disliked by most of Heaven for indulging in too many human customs."

"I thought it was weird you've always kept to yourself. Now I guess I know why." Crowley's hand went up to cover his face as he shook his head from side to side woefully, then he carefully took off his sunglasses to be sure Aziraphale looked at him. It was an action he rarely made, so he knew it would get the angel's attention, and it did. Aziraphale's gaze moved from Kera to Crowley, although much more slowly and full of some emotion Crowley couldn't quite place. When they were looking at each other, he continued, "Please tell me you see how messed up that is. That your love of humans and earth has lost you all chance of having affection for yourself."

"I know." Aziraphale was noticeably more nervous now. "I have always been envious of you. You have always seemed so free to reach out and care for animals or children. Even though I'm sure such things would be frowned upon in Hell, you never let it stop you, you always seemed so carefree about it, unlike myself. I've only ever engaged with any kind of physical affection for The Arrangement."

Crowley was silent, taking a moment as he processed the words his mind desperately wished weren't true, and then he heaved a great sigh, his heart felt as if it were Falling for a second time, "Oh, Angel, you used your body? I never thought you'd accomplish them like that, just plant seeds of doubt or something. I thought you'd prefer doing temptations that lacked love in them." Crowley thought back through all the times he had specifically chosen temptations to send Aziraphale off on that involved breaking up marriages, usually ones already on their last legs. "I thought you'd feel less guilt if you could tell there wasn't any love being lost, and that it would be easier for you to justify breaking up a relationship that hadn't seen love in ages."

Aziraphale blushed and placed his wine glass down on the coffee table with a small uttered, "oh," the blush faded and gave way to a much heavier expression; one of immense shame tinged with harrowing guilt. It made Crowley uneasy to see such intensity on Aziraphale's face; he had no idea if he even  _ wanted _ to hear what Aziraphale was about to say, if it brought such emotions to the surface, but the angel resumed talking before Crowley could say anything to prevent Aziraphale. "I thought you were sending me on those temptations specifically so that I  _ would  _ be able to experience touch. I thought you knew all this, and you weren't interested in me. You know, since you were always affectionate with mortals."

Crowley stood up and held out his hand. "Take my hand, Aziraphale. Get off the sofa." Crowley snapped his fingers and the coffee table moved to the corner of the room and a large papasan chair appeared where the coffee table used to be. "Then get in the chair."

Kera had been startled from Aziraphale's lap when the furniture moved without any warning and neither of the beings in the room had touched it. Aziraphale still didn't move from his spot. "I don't understand, Crowley. What's gotten into you?"

"I'm giving you affection, Aziraphale!" Crowley threw up his arms in frustration. "I've wanted to for ages. Get in the chair." He motioned towards the papasan much the same way he'd done towards the Bentley outside the bookshop before the world was going to end. It had every bit as much urgency, which was more than a slightly ridiculous notion to Aziraphale.

"So that you can stroke me like some housepet?" Aziraphale looked both suspicious and confused.

Crowley nodded. "Exactly that." 

* * *

When his response failed to cause Aziraphale to move from the sofa, he redoubled his efforts to reassure him. "Look, no miracles. I promise I won't go too fast for you."

“I don’t know, Crowley.” Aziraphale let his gaze fall to the papasan before anxiously rubbing his hands over each other, fingers looking for something to keep them occupied. His eyes scanned the room to see his wine glass now far out of his reach against the wall on the coffee table, too far away now to save his nervous hands from further betraying his state of mind. He didn’t think he would have ever wanted Kera back on his lap but now he wished she hadn’t scampered away.

“You do know, Aziraphale,” Crowley heaved out in a great sigh as if it were painfully obvious, then miracled a chair next to the papasan and sat down in it all in one graceful swoop. As he settled down he saw the nearly frustrated look in Aziraphale’s eyes, almost looking betrayed at his words, which prompted him to continue, “Oh, don’t look at me as if I’m cheating, Angel. I can feel how much you want it. The same way you feel love, I can feel wants, desires, anything that might make someone more susceptible to temptation.”

That idea had never directly occurred to Aziraphale, although now that he was thinking about it, it did seem likely. How else was Crowley able to know with such ease the desires of humans? 

The demon showed no signs of hurrying Aziraphale, who remained on the sofa, now looking down at his hands folded neatly in his lap as he spoke. He tried his very best not to sound hurt but knew from the waver as he spoke that he was not entirely successful. “If you’ve felt my want all this time, then why? Why send me away?”

“I knew you wanted touch, but…" Crowley looked up and away from Aziraphale for a few seconds. The demon appeared to fight through a series of emotions; frustration warred with sorrow until the latter emotion seemed to have won out, although Crowley waited for his eyes to appear more solemn to turn is face back toward Aziraphale. The emotion was as heavy in his voice as it was clear in his golden eyes. "I never thought you’d ever want it from me.”

Aziraphale thought back to the many times they had been at the park on walks and Crowley would simply miracle up whatever a young child wanted most. “You expect me to believe that?” He hated the indignant sound of his own voice, so he took a deep breath and tried to prevent himself from getting too worked up. Aziraphale desperately needed to know more, and causing the demon to walk out on him would hardly get him the answers he desired. 

Oh goodness, could Crowley feel that too? 

“I have seen you give people exactly what they have been wanting without a single word spoken with them. Do you  _ honestly  _ expect me to believe you never knew it was you that I wanted all these years?”

“Can you always feel who or what humans are loving?”

“No. No, I suppose I cannot.” 

“Younger ones, more honest, yeah? They haven’t learned to stomp everything down yet, emotionally speaking,” Crowley drawled slowly, as if trying to coax Aziraphale’s mind onto a line of thought that was clear as day to him but had yet remained an unrealized fact for the angel. 

Aziraphale gave the concept some thought before replying. “Yes, I suppose that does make sense, now that I think about it.” Children always did  _ love _ more freely and openly than adults, so it made perfect sense that they  _ wanted _ just as freely. Much like knowing the difference in sound between hot and cold water being poured into a mug. It was just something that was merely part of their sensory experience. Aziraphale had never examined it closely enough to acknowledge the difference was even there at all, let alone so easily perceptible if one simply focused on it.

For just a brief moment Aziraphale wondered how many of his kind acts were purely kindness, and how many were to get the people around him to stop _ unintentionally feeling at him _ . Being surrounded by the feelings of love was a blessing to an angel. It made Aziraphale feel fulfilled. If a demon could only feel wants, and the Earth being as full of humans who never stopped wanting something no matter how much they already possessed, then Aziraphale could see how such a power would quickly turn into an overbearing curse. Crowley very likely wasn’t even capable of feeling any gratitude or love as the result of his actions. Just constant nagging instead of constant peace.

Crowley remained silent in his chair next to the papasan. There was no rush for either of them. He snapped his fingers and the wine glasses shifted locations; Crowley’s appeared between hs nimble fingers, and Aziraphale’s glass appeared on a table in front of the angel, freshly miracled for the sole purpose of holding just this one wine glass for however long it needed to. Crowley took a sip from his own glass and gesturing for Aziraphale to join him if he wished.

Aziraphale did take a few sips of wine. They sat in silence. Kera made a reappearance from wherever she had run off to. Now that Aziraphale had something for his hands, something that didn’t leave terrible little black hairs on his clothing, he found he really had no desire to touch Kera again. Not right now. She approached him anyways, primed to join Aziraphale on his lap regardless of his feelings on the matter.

A soft clicking caused her to turn her head to Crowley, who snapped his glass back to the coffee table and was making soft, inviting movements with his fingers as he leaned down, drawing Kera towards him. His eyes were fully yellow as he then leaned back in his seat, confidently glancing at Aziraphale as Kera slinked toward him with an extra measured slowness to her gait that hadn’t been there as she had approached Aziraphale moments before. She leapt into his lap instead. Crowley began stroking her, looking her in the eyes with an intensity that Aziraphale hadn’t seen in centuries. Not since he’d shown Aziraphale at the start of The Arrangement, for the purposes of teaching the angel how to do his job in Crowley’s absence.

Crowley was using his powers of control.

The demon stroked through Kera’s fur before looking up and meeting Aziraphale’s gaze. His eyes returned to a more human appearance with whites around the edges; then without breaking eye contact Crowley removed one hand from Kera’s relaxed, purring form and reached beside him to gently pat the cushion of the papasan. His tone was full of a casual confidence as he spoke. “Whenever you are ready, Angel.”

“Did you just...” Aziraphale was too stuck in a whirlwind of emotion to finish his question, but Crowley had no issue answering him despite the words having trailed off into silence.

“Sense your utter lack of desire to pet the cat, then tempt it into my lap instead? Yes, Angel. I did.” He let his eyes fall to Kera, who was happily purring in Crowley’s lap, nuzzling into his hand every time it neared her face. Crowley raised his golden gaze back to Aziraphale. “She seems happy with the result. Seemed like a solid way to prove my point here. I won’t be pulling that trick on you.” Crowley’s every bit of attractive, sly confidence was back in full force as he added. “And I know just how badly you want to leave that sofa and sit in this chair to get touched by me. If it’s not today, or tomorrow, or even this year, that’s fine. We have all the time in the world now. S’not ending anymore. So go on then. Let’s work down the list. Everything holding you back. Deny me a few times if it makes you feel better. Then, when you are ready, get in the chair.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“The satisfaction of pleasing the one being on the planet I’ve ever given a single bloody shred of care in the world for?”

“No, not touching  _ me _ , Crowley. Tempting.”

“Oh, not much of anything, really. One less pull, I guess? Nothing positive, usually. I think the pull doesn’t affect everyone the same way. It’s hard to know. Demons don’t exactly compare notes about these sorts of things, Angel.” Crowley looked wary. Normally Aziraphale was the one who opened his mouth to speak before thinking better of it, but right now the same actions were playing out across Crowley’s features, “I, I think it changes with mood too. Do you ever get annoyed with the love you feel, Angel?”

Aziraphale had a simultaneous feeling of relief and guilt sweep over him. He solidly believed that feeling the way he did about humans loving all around him when he wanted no part in it was some sort of personal flaw of being around them for so long. He knew if other angels ever found out about it, he would be seen with even more disgust in their eyes They would think humanity was corrupting him in a way that could not so easily be explained away as doing certain activities to blend in; Aziraphale had no idea what the consequences might have been so he had been carrying the weight of this closely guarded secret for centuries. It was nearly painful to admit it aloud after all this time. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s voice was barely above a whisper. He wasn’t certain Crowley had heard him, so he increased his volume slightly and repeated himself. “Yes. I have.”

Crowley’s hands kept moving through Kera’s fur. He shifted her warm body to be closer to his own, an action she protested by standing up and returning to where she was most comfortable instead. 

“It’s like that, I think. It was fun at first, occasionally. Making people want felt powerful, at the start. I’ve been around the torture sessions in Hell. Forcing others to endure things they don’t want is an intoxicating mix of total emptiness and burning hot desire for  _ anything else _ . But then, with time it becomes clear that nothing will ever stop it. So, no, I don’t get anything out of it. Have I sometimes? Yeah, it comes with the territory. But this, Angel? Right now? No. I am not getting off on it. It doesn’t give me a rush. I’m not going to race the Bentley back to my flat, call Hell, and get a promotion.” 

He sighed again, looked between Aziraphale and the papasan, then made a vague gesture that included himself, the angel, and the chair. “This is just me knowing what you want, no doubt left in my mind, wanting the same bloody thing for damn near forever and offering to give it to you. But I am not tempting you. I’d never forgive myself. I have no problem hurting demons, and with humans it really depends on who they are and what they’ve done, but hurting you, Angel? Never intentionally.”

Aziraphale rose from the sofa.

He didn’t need to hear more. Aziraphale walked across the living room and stood in front of the papasan. Crowley’s eyes followed him the entire way, a stunned look on his face. His intense gaze continued as Aziraphale slipped out of his shoes effortlessly, the laces coming undone with a miracle as he tugged at the ankle. His coat was also removed and folded with tender care, then placed over the back of the sofa.

Crowley’s expression made it clear that his confidence before may have been more of a show to hide his fears than true belief that Aziraphale would accept the invitation. Aziraphale climbed into the chair and settled down comfortably. The chair was tilted back enough that Aziraphale was unable to retreat from the chair without miracles; the added vulnerability of being lower to the ground, below Crowley as the demon sat next to him did not ease his anxiety. 

The nerves spiked in Aziraphale’s mind again as Crowley shifted his chair to better be able to reach Aziraphale within his cozy, curled-up, almost nest-like position. "Are you sure about this, Crowley? This is silly. You don't need to-"

"I want to, Angel.” Crowley interrupted Aziraphale with his voice rough, almost like something was caught in his throat. “I've always wanted to. And today I find out you used to sneak affection with humans through the Arrangement? That's the only touch you've had? I can do a lot better at making you feel loved than any of them. Please, Aziraphale. Let me love you. That’s what you want, right?" 

Aziraphale didn't know what to do with the emotions pouring off Crowley. He had always felt some small measure of this feeling from Crowley but never with such intensity or volume before. Crowley made no move to touch him yet. He was simply looking down at Aziraphale with a need in his eyes as clear as day. No wonder the demon kept his glasses on all the time. How often had Crowley been giving him this exact look in crowded spaces where he could easily hide his longing love amidst the throngs of humans surrounding them?

Aziraphale nodded and gave Crowley the permission he was waiting for. "O-oh, all right. I suppose it can't hurt."

"I promise you it won't, Angel." Crowley reached forward and touched Aziraphale's head; he let the angel's hair run through his fingertips. The silken, curly blonde locks slipped easily through his movements, never hitching on any twists or knots. Crowley still had yet to touch Aziraphale; he simply made gentle, calming pulls on the strands, hesitant to do anything more for a few tense breaths.

Aziraphale was looking up at him with such blind, overwhelming doe-eyed trust. He couldn’t feel any fear, exactly, but Crowley could tell Aziraphale was nervous. They had both ceased to breathe until Aziraphale let out somewhat impatiently, “Go on, Crowley. It’s fine.”

With that line of reassurance, Crowley allowed his hands to touch Aziraphale’s head. They both let out the breath that neither of them had been fully aware of through the tension of the moment. Crowley ran massaging circles all over Aziraphale’s scalp and forehead, then moved to his neck. Aziraphale shifted slightly in the chair to give the demon better access, and let out a small hum of appreciation.

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to relax enough to close his eyes. The silence that stretched out between them was no longer full of tension, but instead that of repose. He’d been breaking the silence between them an awful lot that evening, but Aziraphale was the first to speak yet again. 

"I always felt bad, you know."

"Hm?" Crowley said nothing else, but made a gentle noise to indicate he was listening from his spot behind Aziraphale. The angel was internally grateful that his words hadn’t halted the movement of the demon’s hands over his skin. Crowley had begun to rub Azirphale’s shoulders, which had required him to sit up a little more but was well worth the shift in position to permit better access.

"Using The Arrangement for touch." Aziraphale felt a knot in the pit of his stomach to be bringing it up. "I felt awful for wanting it. For feeling like I needed it. At first I was merely curious, but then I really did feel like I needed touch. Any touch at all."

"I did the same, Angel. Don’t let it get to you.” Crowley’s voice was solemn from behind Aziraphale. 

The steady massage continued, although not entirely uninterrupted Every once in a while Aziraphale would hear Kera purr louder and one of Crowley’s hands would disappear for a just a few seconds. 

Aziraphale actually turned his face and pouted at Crowley.

Crowley’s mouth dropped open in over exaggerated, mocking self defense, “Are you giving me that face because I am taking care of  _ your  _ charge for you?”

Aziraphale just continued giving him the look and raised an eyebrow to increase his likelihood of getting the demon to do what he wanted.

“What do you want me to do, Angel?” Crowley's tone was equal measures of exasperation and acquiescence.

“ _ You _ are the temptation expert Crowley, not me. Can’t you distract the beast with something that  _ isn’t  _ your hands?”

Crowley gave Aziraphale an appraising look, seeming to weigh a handful of ideas in his mind before responding, “Well, what’s in it for me if I do?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale scoffed at the question. “You get to continue what you are doing right now without distractions, my dear. Is that not enough?”

“I think I’d appreciate some sort of thanks as payment for my effort, Angel.” The end of the word ‘thanks’ came out slightly hissed, which Aziraphale knew meant Crowley was becoming relaxed past the point of caring to conceal his more snake-like qualities, “How would you feel about taking off your clothes?” 

The anxiety Aziraphale felt from before reared its ugly head once again, rushing back in full force and nearly blinding him. “I beg your pardon?”

Crowley repeated himself with a more calming, less sly tone to his words, “Your clothing, Angel. So I can touch more of you.”

“It’s - It’s rather quick, isn’t it?” His eyes took on a glow of sadness. Worry creased his brows as Aziraphale continued to stammer on in a rush of nerves. “You said we wouldn’t be going fast. I - I am not positive I am ready for much more than-”

He found himself interrupted swiftly by the demon, who held his hands up in a placating, defensive gesture. “You don’t have to take everything off. Just give me more to work with here. Your arms. Your body. Your legs and feet maybe?” Crowley tugged at Aziraphale’s shirt sleeve to emphasize his point before lightening his tone a bit. “I'm staying just as clothed as I am now. Even if I  _ was naked,  _ trying to do anything without your consent and considerable effort, or so many bloody miracles to achieve it, it wouldn't even be worth the attempt. Trust me. I've seen humans try. I made these things unstable and ridiculous to try and have sex in."

"You made them?" Aziraphale glanced down at the chair curiously, then back up at Crowley.

"Yeah. Every once in a while it's a fun way to stir up trouble. Invent something totally ridiculous for humans to try and have a shag on. Waterbeds. Kissing benches. Beanbags. Egg chairs. Hammocks. These chairs," Crowley gestured at the papasan with a toothy grin, clearly proud and more than slightly amused at the memories the conversation was bringing to mind. "If a human can put their arse in it, it never takes long for them to try and figure out how to have a shag on it."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and saw no sign of deception in his features, just a brutal honesty and hope glittering in his eyes so true and pure that Aziraphale couldn’t find the cruelty in his soul to crush it even if the consequence had been discorporation. Slowly, cautiously, Aziraphale stood up from the chair.

Once standing he gave Crowley an expectant look, which involved his eyes flickering down on Kera briefly. “Well? Hold up your end of the promise, dear, or I’ll not be removing even a sock, I’m afraid.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a small cloth toy mouse with a jingling bell attached to the tail appeared between his digits. He held it up in front of Kera so she saw it and was able to smell it, then he tossed it nonchalantly over his shoulder before lifting Kera into a position to see his eyes, fully golden and wildly intense already. He looked at her for several seconds until she began to wiggle in his grasp and Crowley let go. Kera darted out of Crowley’s lap and grabbed the toy mouse on her way down the hall to the bedroom, far from sight. Crowley snapped his fingers once again and the delighted chittering from Kera, as well as the sound of the toy, were brought to silence as his miracle had rendered all sound from the bedroom to become silent for all outside its walls.

“Your turn, Angel.” Crowley’s voice still had a hint of the tone Aziraphale was certain to be a trace of the left over demonic energy he had just used. Aziraphale’s own tone had done much the same when tempting for The Arrangement; it was a sultry echo that left whoever heard it feeling the creeping tendrils of the words down their spine, clawing at their essence and scraping for access to their soul. It made Aziraphale’s hairs stand on end.

Had Crowley looked at Aziraphale during those words, Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t have a choice but to follow through, However, Crowley kept his eyes shut tight and his face turned down and away from Aziraphale for several long moments before finally blinking and looking up once again. The gold of Crowley’s eyes was yet again framed by white; proof that he wasn’t influencing anyone.

Aziraphale stripped down to his boxers. Crowley watched him with the same intensity that he would have if they were over a meal at the Ritz, watching each article of clothing Aziraphale carefully removed, folded and placed on to the nearby coffee table with building anticipation. First his bowtie, slipping free from the collar of his shirt. Aziraphale tucked it into one of his vest pockets before slowly unbuttoning it and removing it as well. He shrugged the suspenders off his shoulders with practiced ease then, one by one, then worked down his light blue shirt unbuttoning one button at a time.

Crowley was caught between wanting to get up and take Aziraphale’s clothing off, and watching hungrily. In all their long time of knowing each other, Crowley had never seen Aziraphale so undressed. The angel wasn’t exactly putting on a show. There were no teasing movements or sneaking, demure glances, but there was something incredibly appealing about the way Aziraphale moved while removing his clothing. It left Crowley feeling parched, as if he’d just spent months wandering aimlessly through a vast desert and Aziraphale was an inviting oasis. Each new bit of skin revealed called to Crowley and it took every shred of self control he could manage to keep himself from leaving his chair and lavishing attention on Aziraphale right then and there.

Finally, Aziraphale reached the state of undress where only his boxers remained. He hesitated before turning to look at Crowley with a questioning, uneasy furrow in his brow. Crowley answered the unspoken question with a sweeping gesture of his hand back towards the papasan. Aziraphale’s features softened in relief as he moved back toward the chair. 

With slight assistance from Crowley, he nestled down into the soft, warm cushion of the bowl shaped chair. Crowley’s hands were a guiding, gentle pressure, the demon positioned Aziraphale in the chair so that he was mostly reclined. Aziraphale’s legs were uncrossed, but his ankles were nearly crossed as they were pressed close together. His knees were bent and thighs spread. Crowley shifted his own chair to be at Aziraphale’s feet, facing each other.

Crowley hummed as he felt his eyes shift to become a bit more golden. His pupils expanded in appreciation of the sight before him. Aziraphale only became more nervous with Crowley’s eyes shifting as they were. “Cro- Crowley?”

The demons eyes squeezed shut and his hand rose to cover his face, his thumb and pointer finger pinched over his eyelids as Crowley turned his face away as if Aziraphale’s words had burned them. “S-sorry Angel. ‘S just, I’ve waited  _ so bloody long  _ to see you like this. Give me a sec.”

“Qui- quite alright, dear. I have just,” Aziraphale paused to think for just a moment, as if he might be concerned he was forgetting something. “only ever seen your eyes do that when you are tempting, or drunk, or otherwise unable to concentrate on-”

“Happens when I’m bloody aroused too, Angel.” Crowley cut him off. There was a slight harshness to his words but it was clear to Aziraphale it wasn’t aimed at him, it was obvious Crowley was frustrated with himself.

“Oh” Aziraphale sat up in the chair. One leg swung over the edge of the papasan in a way that showed his eagerness to leave the comfort of the chair and stand yet again. “I had no idea. I’m terribly sorry. I can get up. Perhaps putting my pants back on would-”

“For the love of...” Crowley muttered under his breath, interrupting Aziraphale’s offer and snapping slightly, “No. Sit back down, Angel. I’m over 6 thousand years old. I can control my own damn body. That’s not what this is about. It’s just hard as hell, keeping my eyes in check. You’re bloody gorgeous, Angel.” Crowley still looked away, and his thin digits still pinched his eyelids.

Until Crowley felt a hand on his wrist, pulling it away from his face. 

Aziraphale’s words were soothing as he softly called to Crowley, urging him to look up at him, “Crowley... Crowley, please look at me.” 

Crowley shook slightly as he turned his head and opened his eyes. The pupils had receded back to slits but the majority of the yellow remained; only the slightest speck of white could be seen at the far reaches of Crowley’s eyes. “If that is all it is, dear, you are fine. Truthfully, it’s a bit flattering.”

“Are you sure, Angel? I think if I just take a few breaths ‘nd calm myself down, I can will them back t’ normal.” Crowley’s voice had an insistent hitch to it, worried and wary.

Aziraphale relinquished his grasp on Crowley’s wrist and leaned back into the chair just as Crowley had assisted him into earlier. “I am quite certain, Crowley. I know you don’t want to tempt me. The idea is laughable, that you’d spend all this time earning my trust, then turn around and tempt me now? I’m sorry, Crowley. Really, I should have known. I’m just a tad overcome with nerves, my dear.”

Crowley let out a short, breathy laugh, “You’re not alone there, Angel.” The look in his eyes was touched with sorrow, a rueful twist to his lips. 

They looked at each other, both of them ruminating within their minds at how utterly ridiculous and inconsequential the situation was in comparison to how deeply their emotions were flying out of control in the face of it.

Crowley was the first to act. He shifted in his seat to lean over Aziraphale just slightly, then held his hand out, hovering over Aziraphale’s warm, soft thigh. Aziraphale nodded and Crowley let his arm lower, and allowed it to finally make contact with the angel’s tender flesh. Crowley didn’t want to tease or tickle, so he kept his pressure insistent enough to remain a calming press. He ran both his hands up and down Aziraphale’s legs. Crowley traced and pressed along muscles, rubbed circles and lines into Aziraphale’s body, wordlessly urging the angel to go limp beneath his fingertips.

It didn’t take very long for Aziraphale to melt into the sensations Crowley gave him eagerly. At first, they watched each other intently. Each new place Crowley’s fingers travelled was met with a mutual, cautious look to search for hesitation. Eventually Aziraphale found his eyes had fluttered closed to better take in all Crowley was giving him. Every new spot Crowley explored with his touch made Aziraphale's tense instinctively. Then, as no harm came to him, the angel breathed and let go of the tension.

The press never became needy or rushed, or seductive or sensual. Crowley simply moved his hands across Aziraphale, leaving his skin feeling almost energized in the wake of the sensation. He varied the touches, sometimes using just his fingertips, before covering the spot with his still hand flush against the skin, simply resting for a few breaths, then sweeping it along to a new place on Aziraphale’s form.

There wasn’t an inch of exposed skin that Crowley’s fingers didn’t explore. Crowley’s hands moved up and down Aziraphale’s legs, over his feet, across his belly, torso, sides, chest, then moving over Aziraphale’s shoulders and down his arms before touching Aziraphale’s hands with his own; then Crowley swept his touches back up the arms, up his neck and across his face. Once Crowley reached Aziraphale’s head, he reversed his entire direction and order so he worked his touches right back down across every location to where he had started working at Aziraphale’s feet. Occasionally Aziraphale heard the light scratch of Crowley’s movements as he changed positions or shifted his own chair to better reach different parts of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale didn’t know he had fallen asleep until he felt his legs moved. He jumped in his chair, startled at being repositioned. Crowley looked at him with earnest, wary eyes that were fully golden and pupils wide. 

“Terribly sorry.” Aziraphale murmured sleepily. He rubbed one of his eyes and gave a yawn in attempt to wake himself up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep, Angel.” Crowley’s head tilted as his hands worked along the leg he had pulled out of the papasan to dangle over the edge so he could massage the underside more effectively.

“That’s because I don’t tend to, truthfully.”

“I figured. I don’t need sleep either. I just like it.” Crowley thought back to all the times he had fallen asleep on the sofa only to wake up to find himself beneath a warm, down-filled blanket that smelled and had an energy just a bit too much like Aziraphale to  _ not  _ be full of the angel’s own shed downy feathers. Crowley had filled a few pillows with his own through the centuries. Angels and demons making their living spaces smell like themselves through the use of molted feathers was simply leftover nesting instinct. The thought of his own bed gave Crowley an idea that fell from his lips much more easily that he would have expected to, “Angel, would you like me to massage you in my bed? You could sleep there. It would be more comfortable than falling asleep in this chair. Promise.”

For the first time that night, Crowley felt Aziraphale want, and both heard and saw no hesitation. Aziraphale swooned, visibly swelling at the offer. 

“I think that sounds  _ lovely, _ dear.”

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, the entire papasan with Aziraphale in it, as well as Crowley’s chair, were transported to Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale spotted his clothing folded neatly on a shelf under the bedside table. Crowley held out a hand to Aziraphale and helped the angel from the papasan.

Aziraphale had been the one to close the distance between them once fully steady on his feet. He stepped close to Crowley and hugged the demon close. Crowley was all at once very unsure with where his arms should be, despite having spent the last stretch of time touching Aziraphale, Crowley kept his arms out awkwardly stretched into the air at their sides. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with an amused smile before he reached up and pulled Crowley’s arms around himself. “There. That’s better. You can hardly cuddle me in bed without having hugged me first, don’t you agree?”

Crowley lost his words. He could only nod fervently and squeeze Aziraphale firmly in his embrace. They didn’t rush to the bed. In that moment wrapped in each others arms, Crowley felt no unmet wants from Aziraphale, and Aziraphale felt Crowley’s love as it radiated from the demons very core.

After a short while, a brief flicker of want sparked through Crowley as Aziraphale lifted his head from where it rested on Crowley’s shoulder. Golden eyes met blue for several heartbeats. The want surged deeper, became more urgent. Before Crowley could attempt to decipher it, Aziraphale’s lips were pressed against his own in a kiss that made his head spin and his knees weak. It was slow, and cautious; Aziraphale tasted like the musk of his bookshop mixed with all the earthy tones of the wine they’d shared earlier. 

Aziraphale swept his tongue along Crowley’s lips, tasted the pleasant wine overlaid with Crowley’s more natural taste, a mix of spices and a slight toasted, not-quite-burnt undertone. The angel was more than certain he could do this all day if given the opportunity. Crowley’s entire body pressed against him, hard and thin and needy. As if being given just this one taste spurred on a long repressed hope, now howling for attention and burning with desire. For nearly six thousand years Crowley had thought about kissing these lips and once said lips were on him, he ceased to have the ability to have coherent thoughts at all. 

Well, any thoughts that weren’t just  _ ‘Satan in Hell. Please more.’ _

The kiss dragged on for several minutes, neither being truly wanting to be the one to bring the new contact to an end. Crowley pulled back first, whispering, “Sorry, Angel.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea why you’d feel the need to apologize, Crowley.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley on the cheek once, quickly. Then pondered for a moment before reaching one hand up to turn Crowley’s face to the side and kissing over his snake tattoo. The contact made Crowley lose control of a keening whine that morphed into a gasp midway through the sound. “Now, I believe you promised me massages in bed. Make yourself comfortable and join me, would you?”

Crowley’s words had left him again. He simply nodded and watched as Aziraphale climbed on to his bed and stretched out on his belly like it was his own. For a few blissful breaths of time, Crowley just looked at the angel in his bed and felt he had to be dreaming. This angel, the only angel Crowley had ever crushed himself into never hoping would be in his bed  _ was there in his bed. _ He could hardly believe it. Crowley miracled his clothing into a set of silk pyjamas with a sweep of his hands before climbing on top of the bed. He started with massaging the angel’s hands. His touches were much more firm this time than before. Aziraphale winced a few times, but said nothing.

A snap of Crowley’s fingers summoned a dish of mildly fragrant massage oil to ease his more insistent movements. It smelled of a mix of flowers with the faintest hint of vanilla. Every so often Crowley would dip his fingertips into the dish of oil on the nightstand. Demonic intervention prevented it from dripping before it was safely over Aziraphale, and not a single smear of oily contact would ever think of staining his silken sheets beneath them. 

Aziraphale made soft groans and moans of gratitude as Crowley worked over his arms, shoulders, down his back and legs. As Crowley worked, he thought about all the ways his efforts were praising everything Aziraphale was, did, and loved. His hands, well cared for and used to page through his books, fingers delicate and careful. Aziraphale’s arms, stronger than they looked and built to wield a flaming blade at the gates of Eden. Arms he used to protect, rather than fight as he had been created for. His upper back, hiding his unseen ivory wings, always tucked away safely in the other plane. Wings the angel used to shelter Crowley from the rain.

Aziraphale’s lower back, so close to the warm, inviting belly Crowley had dreams for centuries about falling asleep with head pressed against it. Crowley thought of all the times Aziraphale had nervously held his hands around his sides, just above his hips, and Crowley had wanted to grasp the angels hands in his own and comfort him but had been unable to. 

Aziraphale’s buttocks, so firm underneath yet so soft. Crowley had always wanted to pull Aziraphale in for a kiss with a firm grip on his rear end and Crowley was still in shock that maybe one day soon, he could. The angels legs; strong like the trunk of the tree of Eden. They were toned from years of spending time on his feet, keeping watch over the Garden, over humanity... and over one hereditary enemy with whom he was locked in a secret dance that came so naturally to both of them, it felt choreographed by the Almighty and the accompanying music composed by the Devil.

And his feet. Walked more miles and travelled more roads than most mortals could ever hope to dream of. Walked right through every barrier Crowley had ever constructed to keep the Angel safely away from him. Walked right into his heart until Crowley had to find excuses to be near him. Trampled his heart to bits more times than Crowley could count, but then at the end of the world, had turned and walked away from Heaven, his home, his people, and stood beside Crowley instead.

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale’s face and found it slackened with the sweet serenity of rest. Crowley thought hard of the blanket that Aziraphale always covered him with and very subtly brushed his fingertips together to bring it into his flat, letting it fall over both of their bodies as Crowley pulled a few of his own down filled pillows further down the bed. Safely wrapped in both blanket and pillows, Crowley took a deep breath and smelled himself and Aziraphale all around him. Aziraphale's energy radiated from the blanket and Crowley's own from the pillow. Crowley smiled at the thought; his bed didn’t smell or feel only like him now. He draped an arm across Aziraphale’s back and let contented sleep drag his mind into the delicately woven tapestry of dreams.

Above a flower shop in Soho, a calico colored beast stretched out in a ray of moonlight that shone through the window. Kera too, fell quiet and still as she rested after a lovely night of attention and play. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work! I greatly appreciate all forms of feedback and do my best to respond to all my comments! Constructive comments help me become a better writer, and praise motivates me to get my other works completed!


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